


I'm A Good Person

by Bowieandqueen11



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29063259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowieandqueen11/pseuds/Bowieandqueen11
Relationships: Barry Berkman & Gene Cousineau, Barry Berkman & Reader, Barry Berkman/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	I'm A Good Person

God, what he wouldn’t give to rewind time. To stop himself from having made the god awful same mistakes that led to this moment. To stop the cycle of depression and killing and loneliness that could only lead to this outcome. Surprised, he wasn’t, but scared, for one of the first times in his life, Barry was. There was no rest for the wicked, he thought, and he was just about as damned as they come.

‘Barry? Where the hell is he! Oh shit, there you are Barry, you’re late! And not dressed yet!’

‘I’m sorry Mr Cousineau’, Barry mutters meekly, ‘do you know if y/n is here yet?’

‘Yes, I believe she’s putting on makeup in her dressing room. She’s very stressed right now Barry, it’s show time in ten minutes, and Hollywood doesn’t wait for you to get into costume! So go on now, on you go.’

Barry nods his head, his hands fumbling over the top of his jeans as he walks towards the wing of the stage, collapsing down onto the nearest chair he can find, ignoring the bustle of his fellow actors as they stage yell at each other in preparation or go about practising with themselves.

It was too bright in here. Too bright, it made his head ache. Barry shuts his eyes tightly, wincing slightly in pain as the bright vanity bulbs shine out aggressively, their white beams hitting the former shadows of his skin like hot bullets as sweat begins to lightly trickle down his forehead, curving down past his lips and landing like sick teardrops onto his hoodie. He sways forward, one arm coming to grasp against his stomach as the familiar burn of nausea swirls in his gut and rises like licks of fire against his throat, his breathing becoming shallow and rough as it begins to constrict against his command. The dim rays of the lights above bathe the room in blue coldness as his arms begin to shiver, or rather shake, their grip on the oaken bottom of the chair becoming tighter until flashes of pain rip through Barry’s white knuckles and he can feel the small pregnant droplets of blood ping easily onto the floor as the splinters break his skin. But he doesn’t care, doesn’t have to care for himself anymore. God, he shouldn’t have come here, he can’t see you like this. And if he can’t see you, then what’s the point?

What’s the point of all this pretence? Just how easy is it take the memories of reality and twist it into a character who’s just a shadow of himself, all the anger and hatred that’s bottled up inside the pit of his stomach but is still so glaringly real? To bare his soul, all the evils he has done in front of a million unseeing, demanding and unforgiving eyes? As his head falls down into his hands, his long fingers grasping against his temples as they thump painfully, choked sobs escaping his quivering lips as he wills the tears that cloud his vision not to fall, he wonders if there really was any way out of this. The blood smears against his cheek as he sighs, his chest trembling as it only reminds him of all the innocent people he had killed, reminding him of Detective Loach, of all the times he finally would be able to have a normal life only to be sucked back in by the darkness,

‘Hey, Barry, Jesus, are you alright? Oh my god, is that blood?!’

Barry looks up at you desperately, ignoring the waving hands of Gene as he stands by the velvet curtains, waving the two of you on before slumping down and tapping his hand against his watch with a shrug. He tries to speak, but all that comes out are breathless gasps and falling tears that bombard his chin as his mouth hangs open, his glittering blue eyes distant and lost as they try to focus on you.

‘Hey, hey, Barry it’s okay. Shit, Jesus, I’m here, okay, I’m here, and we don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.’

Barry shakes his head, trying his best to shoot you a smile but only making you frown more with the wince that covers his face. You reach out your hand gingerly, letting it land on his broad shoulder, his cotton hoodie slightly damp and coarse against your fingertips as you begin to rub them against his muscles, stepping closer and allowing both your hands to fall onto his back. Your fingers begin to dance over their expanse, swirling nonsense but tender patterns over his shaking form, and taking slight relief in that his breathing seemed to be evening out slightly. What you don’t expect, however, is two large hands wrapping themselves around your waist without warning and tugging you tightly forward, Barry’s head nestling into your skin right above your abdomen. 

There’s a comfortable silence for a moment as you take on of your hands off his back to rest against his cheek, cupping it lightly and trying as softly as you can to wipe off the little streaks of blood as his tears smudge their stain. Barry just sits there, his thumbs rubbing small figure eights into your hips as he just breathes you in, finding a slight moment of bliss as your hand strokes against his stubble, tracing their way up his face to brush his chocolate curls away from his eyes, running your hand protectively through his hair.

‘Y/n, do you think I’m a good person?’

The question catches you off guard, and you pause for a moment, biting your lip as Barry gazes up at you like a lost puppy, taking your silence as a bad sign and sighing to himself, shutting his eyes and releasing you from his embrace as he thumps back down against the chair.

‘Barry….I…I think, I think you’re deeply human.’

He looks up at you, slight shock on his face and eyebrows raised as you squat down, hesitantly reaching up so as not to scare him before enveloping your warm hands over his cold ones, stroking your thumb against his palm as his lips shudder again.

‘And, I think what’s happened in people’s lives shouldn’t be their defining factor. It’s what you do now that counts, Barry, and you’ve been the sweetest guy in my life since forever. I love you, Barry, and I’m going to help you through whatever you’re going through right now, okay? I promise, I’m not leaving you.’


End file.
